The door swung open, and one of the clothing stores employees walked inside. She was carrying a large stack of misplaced items of clothing that needed to be re-hung throughout the store. She grumbled under her breath about how careless and insensitive customers could be, but begrudgingly dropped the pile on top of the clothes your mom had set out, including the tan panties and bra.
You couldn’t see anything, but the terrible dread building inside of you proved to come true as the employee dropped her stack of clothes on top of the panties and bra. Your minimal progress was erased immediately as your squishy form was crushed flat once more, firmly shoved into the fabric of the panties by the weight pressing down on you.
Oblivious to what she had done, the employee lifted her pile of clothes again, bundling the panties you were stuck to against the bottom of the pile. With a bit of effort, she left the changing room and headed to a room in the back of the store to sort through the clothes and prepare them for purchase once more. One the way, she passed your mother, who was blissfully browsing a rack of compression shorts and athletic leggings.
In the back room, the employee dumped the clothes onto a table, and then sorted them into respective piles based on the type of clothing article. The panties you were stuck to were laid in a pile with a few other tan bras, panties, and thongs. It took the employee about twenty minutes to work through everything else but your pile, during which you furiously tried to reform as quickly as you could, but your progress was minimal and hardly noticeable.
Despite your determined struggles, the employee came to your pile eventually, and picked up the panties you were still firmly stuck to. Her face crinkled up in disgust and confusion as she spotted your minuscule body, confusing your still-visible human features for a slight discoloration in the fabric of the tan panties.
She licked her thumb and began vigorously grinding her finger against your squishy body, smearing and stretching your tiny form. You mentally cried out in pain as she ground and rubbed your body in circles, over and over. Sadly, your mute cries fell on the employee’s deaf ears, who didn’t have the slightest clue that the ugly “discoloration” in the panties was really a living human being like herself, trapped and terrified.
In just a few short minutes, the employee had satisfactorily removed the “discoloration” from the panties, pleased with her skilled work. In reality, the oblivious girl had smeared and engrained your body to the very fibers of the fabric, spreading you out until you covered the entire right half of the panties. Your visible human features were now blurred beyond recognition, and you blended in with the tan colored panties perfectly. Not only that, but you were so fused to the panties that you wouldn’t be reforming for a long, long time.
Mentally depressed and broken, your senses barely perceived your surroundings as the employee slid the panties and a matching bra onto a specialized hook, and brought you out into the store. She hung you up beside nine other matching sets of tan bras and panties, with which you were indistinguishable from. It looked like you had belonged there on that rack your entire life, which was a soul-crushingly bleak realization.
The employee walked away, totally unaware of the horrific fate she had subjected you to. Your life was now fully in the hands of fate, and you could do nothing but stay there, spread thin across the right half of the panties and firmly plastered to the fabric, hanging with your matching bra partner. Face-first against the fabric, your world was darkness, and even smells and sounds were muffled from how smeared and twisted your body was.
A few hours passed, and nothing happened. Giantesses strolled by, admiring the items for sale, and then carried on with their average, perfect little lives. Not a one had any clue that one particular pair of panties had a broken little guy adhered to them. Even your mother had forgotten about you, too preoccupied with a buy two get one free sale on swimwear three aisles over. She had left the store with a happy smile on her face an hour after the employee had sentenced you to this torment.
The day came to a close, and not a single person had taken your hanger off of the rack. The store closed, and the same employee who had effectively ruined your life turned off the lights and slammed the grate in front of the doors shut. The mall closed down, and you couldn’t do a thing except for silently sob as you fell asleep, praying that some miracle would save you from this predicament, and soon.
No divine beings answered your prayers, as three whole days passed without any sign that you would be freed. The hours crept by at a painfully slow rate, and you felt like you were slowly going insane. The only thing keeping your mind from completely breaking was the realization that your reformation process was slowly (incredibly slowly) working towards freeing you from this panty prison.
What happens next?
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